Squintin' at the moon
I feel so lonesome
moodily morose
and positively pensive
Cool light is beamin' down
Chills me to the bone and soul
not so very uneasily
Just a bit lonesome.

I need a bit of warmth for my belly
So very late at night
Won't you be so kind, good sir,
To rest a while, share a drink?
I know your mama said don't take candy from strangers
But we're both just travelers
on our long and dusty roads
Come over to my side
and walk with me for a while.

If beer dulls a memory
brand sets it burning
but wine is the best for a sad soul's yearning,
What can I get you? Tonight I'm drinking wine, the very best.
Share a glass of memory with me, bitter and sweet.

Let us gaze back together.

Do you remember the three hour drive back from the choir retreat?
I'd baked cookies for you and everyone, but forgot them in the trunk of the minivan. When I came back, you'd stolen my seat in the sweet spot and doomed me to the front passenger seat by the parent driver and a kink in my neck. You didn't even eat my lemon bars. Everyone loves lemon bars.
We listened to three hours of pop music. It all sounded the same, except Ed Sheeran's A Team. You had to explain why it was so, er, salacious. I got it subconsciously, I was just to tired to understand the lyrics just then. I'll never forget the look you gave me when I initially protested the song's innocence.

Do you remember how we used to argue every day?
We were both used to being right, I think. I can especially recall convincing you that nothing could be proven. That disappointed me. I wanted to be disproven.
I remember debating the concept of infinity, and the shock of being proven to be, quite conclusively, wrong. You were smug; I was chagrin-full.

Do you remember the first time we danced?
You didn't know what to do, and I was two inches taller than you in killer heels. I kicked them off to dance on the grimy sticky floor, to put you more at ease. It's tough being taller than the boys at your high school.
Then my only friend there left, and you and your best friend went upstairs to play the pinball machine, and I sat alone for the rest of the night.

What do you remember of me?
How did I come off?
Was I satirical, or sarcastic?
Was I funny, or tasteless?
Was I graceful, or chilly?

It does matter to me.

See, what I need to warm my belly this evening isn't drink nor memory.

What I need is you.

Sit by my fire, hold my hand, kiss my lips.
Tell me a story, write me a poem, sing me a song.

Tell me you need me too.